“Markum.”
“It’s Jack. You won’t believe this. You know that new guy we hired to work cold cases?”
Hunter didn’t have time for this, nor did he remember the rookie’s name. “Sure.”
“Guy’s amazing. He unearthed some evidence regarding Denise’s death.”
The cars in front of him seemed to stand still, and his hands went numb right along with his mind. “Denise?”
“Can you imagine? With ten years of improved technology, the rookie decided to rerun some tests. He found flecks of blood on Denise’s pants that aren’t a match to her.”
Kerry, Denise. His mind froze. “Do you have a person of interest?”
“We have a name, or rather a witness. Seems some vagrant saw the murder.”
A shot of adrenaline brought his body back to the living. “Why didn’t he come forward before?” My God. All those years of waiting, wondering would have been erased. His fingers gripped the wheel as his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
“Name’s Chester Gomez. Says he’ll only talk to you. He’s in Tampa General Hospital. Dying. You need to come now. The doctor said the guy may not make it through the night.”
More than anything Hunter wanted to know who’d killed his sister, but Kerry needed him more. “I can’t.”
“You shitting me? The case may go cold forever if you don’t talk to this guy. Do I have to order you? I’m outside his room, but he won’t say a word other than your name.”
“Kerry needs me. The bastard took her.” Denise was dead. Soon Kerry might be if he didn’t reach her in time. “Here’s Phil. He’ll fill you in.”
“Hun—”
Hunter handed the phone to Phil as he raced up I-275 to State Road 54. They had the man who knew Denise’s killer. If he died before Hunter got to him, his family may never have closure, but that couldn’t be helped. Kerry needed him. Now.
After a short conversation where Phil asked for backup to help save Kerry, he dropped the cell on the seat beside him but didn’t toss out any accusations. Phil had every right to ask why Hunter didn’t try to find out who’d killed Denise. Hunter’s admiration for the man took a few leaps upward, especially since Phil’s older brother had been engaged to Denise.
As his siren whirred and shrieked, no one moved aside. Either every car was blasting the stereo, the drivers were on the phone, or they were daydreaming idiots.
After he weaved through one clump of cars after another, Hunter finally reached State Road 54. The moment he exited, he cut the siren. No use announcing his arrival.
He’d been on Bruce B. Downs Boulevard no more than ten minutes, when Phil jabbed a finger at a dirt road. “Turn right.”
“Shit man. Give me a little warning next time,” he said as he slammed on the brakes and fishtailed up the road, dust billowing behind them. He slowed. “So what’s our plan?” Hunter wasn’t able to formulate much in his state of mind. “Do we drive in and confront the bastard, or sneak in?”
“I say we go in to see if he’s there then decide.”
Having a semi plan, and backup on the way, Hunter’s pulse calmed. He steeled his mind against what was at stake and pretended this rescue mission was for someone else’s woman.
“He’s sure to see us coming for a mile.” Hunter eased off the gas pedal, as his gaze searched for a car, a truck, or some kind of vehicle.
“I think I saw something red peek behind the branches.”
“Where?” Hunter had lost his sharp senses.
“There. Behind those trees.”
Less than two hundred feet to go, Hunter pulled off to the side, engine idling. “I say we go in by foot.”
Phil grabbed his arm. “No. Dalton doesn’t know us. Let’s just pretend we heard there was a squatter on the property.”
“I’m not so sure he won’t recognize me. I’ve been to Kerry’s lab several times.”
“We have to chance it.”
Hunter eased back onto the road and drove straight to the recently cleared land, taking the bumps slow. A blue Port-O-Potty sat off to the right. A young man with a shovel in hand stepped out of the forest, matching the description John Ahern had given him. The man waved and smiled. Okay that was not what Hunter expected from a killer.
Once he made sure his weapon was secure, Hunter cut the engine and eased out of the driver’s seat. Phil knew to stay by the cruiser until the right moment. Their routine was solid.
“Hello,” Hunter called. He flashed his badge. As he approached, he let his gaze flick over the property for Kerry. When he saw no sign of her, doubt slammed into him. Was he way off base?
A dark cloud pulled a drape over the sun and a low rumble of thunder echoed in the sky. A quick breeze brought relief against the blinding glare and the oppressive heat.
Hunter needed to bring in Steven Dalton for questioning. He’d like to see him explain away his fingerprints on Chanel Carlitta’s window, but he wanted to ask a few questions first.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” Polite and charming with a hint of confidence.
“I’m looking for Steven Dalton.”
“You found him.” The man’s wide-legged stance, along with his arms slightly edged away from his body, contradicted his overly friendly tone.
“I’d like to ask you some questions about Chanel Carlitta.”
Hunter watched the spray of emotions skate across his features that consisted of surprise, guilt, and arrogance—in that order.
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Hunter expected the denial. He could have handcuffed him right then, but he wanted answers about Kerry. “So what are you digging?” His tone came out congenial—or so he hoped.
At first, Steven didn’t seem to understand the question. Then he looked down at his hand. “Oh, this. I’m doing some... soil testing. I bought this property recently and wanted to see if I could put in a pond. I needed to send the contractor some samples from around the property.”
Hunter didn’t believe him. More thunder rumbled and Steven looked up. Splatters of rain hit Hunter on the nose, but he ignored the potential thunderstorm and inched toward his prey.
He didn’t detect any bulges in Dalton’s blue jeans where he might hide a weapon. His tight T-shirt confirmed the man was unarmed. “I’d like you to put the shovel down.”
Steven hesitated, and then tossed the garden utensil on the ground. “What’s this about?
Out of the corner of his eye, Hunter spotted a brush half-hidden behind a rock—a brush with a red handle. Just like the one Kerry owned.
29
Hunter tensed at the sight of Kerry’s tool. The brush implied Steven had kidnapped her, but hunter refused to admit Steven might have already harmed her.
Phil had ducked into the side woods as Hunter expected him to. Thankfully, Steven’s gaze didn’t leave Hunter’s face. Forcing his body to relax, Hunter moved toward him slow and easy. He sure as hell didn’t want to spook Dalton.
Sweat ran down Hunter’s back and forehead, despite the sun’s disappearance. A salty drop stung his eye, but he didn’t wipe it away, not wanting his adversary see how his nerves were eating away at him.
A Nike swoosh symbol emblazoned the side of Steven’s sneakers. Christ. They looked close to a size ten, the same size as those near Kerry’s grandfather’s place. Had he broken into Tom’s house and stolen the skull? If he were the killer, it would make sense he’d want to screw with Kerry’s ability to identify the victim.
Hunter stopped and shoved his left hand in his pocket, keeping his gun hand loose by his side. “I have another question for you. I was hoping you’d know where I can find Kerry Herlihy.”
Steven’s gaze didn’t falter. Damn. “Haven’t seen her.”
Again, his answer came as no surprise. He certainly wouldn’t admit to harming her.